


Habitual

by alasondria



Category: Phantasy Star Online 2
Genre: F/M, Luthaly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasondria/pseuds/alasondria
Summary: Collection of drabbles about Luther and Alasondria's lives.





	Habitual

**Mornings**

 

Alasondria wakes an hour before Luther. She spends the early hour laying out her materials for studying, orders breakfast for the two of them, checks in on Harriet, and makes correspondence with the king.

Never one to wake late and ever always on time, Luther rises exactly one minute to eight in the morning and shrugs a loose robe on, his hair a mess and his eyes narrowed into tired slits.

Alasondria meets him in his study with two trays of food and an easy smile on her face.

She eats in silence, quietly watching him eye yesterday's notes with a scrutinizing expression. Only when he settles into a lazy grin and strikes her up about her findings does she push her food aside and begin rattling off the details; thus it becomes Luther's role to eat and listen.

By the time a full session of back and forth has ended, their breakfast has long been finished and their afternoon teas are being prepared as the routine goes.

Alasondria puts one carefully measured spoon of sugar in her tea, three precise spoonfuls of honey, blows on the surface for a handful of seconds, and takes a long sip.

Luther adds no sugar, no honey, no sweeteners whatsoever and instead opts for a splash of milk to level out the flavor and cool his drink down quicker.

Once Alasondria mistakenly grabbed his cup and drank from it, nearly throwing it down afterwards in repulsion. She claims his tea is an affront to the flavor of the original blend, but Luther argues that hers is a meticulously crafted explosion of cavities.

The two have been given personalized cups since to mitigate any possible future slip ups.

 

* * *

 

 

**Overtime**

 

It isn't often Luther falls asleep before Alasondria. But when he does, he does it face-first into his notes, cheek pressed against an open tome and hair flattened into the book binding.

Alasondria always wishes she could get the moment immortalized by the court painter but decides against it each time. After all, if she did, Luther would become much more cautious about his habit of pulling all-nighters in his study. Harriet hates it, complains that he spends so much time cooped up in his room that he'd forget how many days even passed before he re-emerged.

Though she agreed with the princess, Luther passed out into his notes brought Alasondria far too much joy. With careful hands, she inches the book out from under him, making sure to mark where he'd left off, and edges a cushion in its place. Luther usually stirs ever so but he does not wake.

Alasondria holds her breath until she hears a faint exhale and then she resumes.

Delicately she pulls his jacket off, going so slowly it took practically seven minutes for her to fully remove _one_ arm from the sleeve. After she'd at last gotten his coat set away, she returns with a plush blanket, thick and warm (and yes indeed, it was one of hers), to drape over his form. She was thankful for his slanted drawing desk, as Luther slumping over it put him at a downward angle, so keeping the blanket on despite his eventual stirring was less of an issue.

Having situated him so that he might sleep a little more comfortably without being roused and inevitably thrown in a sour mood following, Alasondria sits beside him in silence, gazing at him. She takes in the subtle pinch of his brow that softens when she dares to brush featherlight fingers over his hand and smiles to herself when he hums out a syllable that is most assuredly a part of her name.

Some nights, when Luther seems to be in a deep, deep sleep; where he neither stirs nor mumbles, Alasondria braves a fleeting kiss to his temple, her lips resting there no more than a few seconds before she moves away, for fear of him snapping awake.

Though she believes he most certainly hadn't felt it, wouldn't have been conscious to remember it, Luther has, each time, been faking a heavy slumber as she worked to settle him in prior. The first time she snuck a kiss had set his skin alight and he'd so desperately wanted to leap up, grab her wrist, and pull her forward for a do-over. However, he'd reconciled the idea that he could always keep up the charade for next time; that he'd have his own ace up his sleeve for bargaining with her should the situation arise.

He was content to pretend a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

 

**Hurt**

 

Alasondria comes to him in the night, frantic and gasping, her body shivering, not from Cuent's thin air, but the raw terror that chilled her blood. Luther barely manages to catch her by her shoulders before she collapses into him, knees giving out as soon as he has his door open. He holds her close to his chest, one hand bracing her back for support while the other cards through her hair.

He murmurs soothing words, his voice far away and unintelligible and he knows, how he knows, she cannot hear what he's saying but the action alone calms her ever-fraying nerves and so he doesn't care whether she responds or not. Only when her quaking ceases and she stops struggling to breathe does he move the hand on her back up to her shoulder to gently pull her away. She looks up at him with watery eyes, fearful, but assured all the same.

He cannot stop the nightmares that plague her, not entirely, and though he wishes he could, he can only do this; curb the terror for another night and pray that whatever being is out there watching over Omega takes pity on her soon.

Between the two of them, Luther thinks, there is one person who deserves this kind of unrelenting punishment and it is not his aide who has done nothing but good for the people of Cuent.

The man who delivered Ephemera and its corruption unto this world deserved this fate and more.

 

* * *

 

 

**First Kiss**

 

The first kiss was a surprise, although truthfully, Alasondria had anticipated it for months upon months. The relief that surged through her when it at last happened was overwhelming.

Across from where she sat, Luther had suddenly braced himself on the desk she studied at, leaned in close, a breath away from her face, and she could tell, despite his cool facade, that he felt as nervous as she did. Without another thought, Luther pressed his lips to hers, his hands reflexively moving to cup her face. Alasondria dropped the quill she'd been holding and moved to place her hands atop his, lithe fingers delicately curling around them with fervour.

When Luther dared to pull away he was caught in his aide’s electric gaze, her eyes wide and blinking at him. Colour dusted her cheeks and the way it contrasted on her skin was one of the most radiant things Luther had seen. He became altogether aware of how much he wanted to dive in and kiss her again.

 

He relished the surprised squeak from Alasondria when he moved in and captured her lips one more time.


End file.
